


shattered lotus { you're a dead man walking and your feet crush the imaginary pink petals dusting the ground. }

by SHINeeNAilee



Category: D.Gray-man
Genre: Gen, Mentions of Alma Karma, so if they seem familiar that's why, will add tags when needed, written throughout the years on my Kanda roleplay blog
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-02
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2018-10-26 17:55:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 2,139
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10791723
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SHINeeNAilee/pseuds/SHINeeNAilee
Summary: A series of drabbles based on Kanda Yū.





	1. Drabble: nightmare or memory? { there are only memories for you. }

~~**NIGHTMARE**~~.

No, a memory ( for all that he imitates humanity, there are many aspects that draws a line between he -- a monster -- and the humans that live on the Earth. One of these details is that he can't dream ); this one is a particularly maddening one. A vast blue sky that he didn't used to know ( so beautiful in comparison to the white world he lived in, but, **_oh_ _!_** , the white had masked the ~~blackblackblack~~ ), a hand aspiring to reach for a voice ( who was asking for a promise of infinity but there would be none for them ), and then -- 

**_~~TH̸I̶S I̧S ҉T̢HE҉ ȨN͜D̢, EXO̵RCIS̶T~~ _ **

An initial spark of pain ( _terrifying_ pain ) before it smooths out into black oblivion. 


	2. Drabble: ghost whisperer { they haunt on your heels but somehow you can't let them go. }

 

Ghosts seemed to trail Kanda's path no matter where he meandered, following him like shadows on a terribly bright day. First were the ghosts of _her_ , bringing with _her_ warm smiles and a kind voice that made the very echoes of his soul long to just touch _her_ again ( just once more, like he's a man dying of thirst and there's an illusion of an oasis just a few feet away ), to hold _her_ in his arms and pretend that their love hadn't been ripped apart and destroyed by death. 

But _her_ ghost was a familiar one, more familiar than the bloodstained flowers that covered the world, becoming numerous as he died. The lotus blossoms would always remind him of _her_ death as well as his own, and the promise he made to _her_ \-- beautiful reminders of pain and suffering. A rose may have its thorns, but a lotus blossom hides mud. 

Now he seemed to be followed by a different ghost, familiar in different ways: where each bright smile full of hope brings back images of ~~Alma~~. Where friendship and love walk, so does the faded ghost of a small boy who only wanted to be loved but instead found the dark depths of humans' souls, and his orb ( because he does not have a heart ) aches as he thinks about how cruel life is to those who did not deserve it. 

He could not help but think that this was the price had to pay for being so unnatural, for cheating death so many times when humans are only supposed to die once. 

Ghosts would forever walk with him, and perhaps they were not illusions as he had been told...but instead _regrets_. 


	3. Drabble: your lips taste like alcohol { just who are you picturing? }. [ Kanda x Link. ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Non-consensual kissing while drunk.

They were **_totally_** hammered. 

It was undeniable, considering how many bottles seemed to be covering the floor around them. Even Kanda, whose body could burn through the alcohol faster, seemed to be a little wobbly when standing up. Still, neither of them were giggly drunks ( in fact, Kanda's personality remained the same as always ), but there seemed to be a, ah, _lowering_ of self-restraint. 

As Kanda stood up, somewhat off-balance, to grab another bottle of alcohol, Link grabbed his collar. Luckily ( or unluckily, depending on who was asked and how drunk they were ), Kanda's reflexes had been slowed down enough that he didn't automatically flip Link onto the floor, but he was certainly tempted when rather chapped lips touched his own. 

Before he could react ( for his brain was going  _"What the fuck--"_ ), Link's lips left his own and yet returned once -- twice -- thrice before a deep pressure shut down whatever negative response Kanda would have had. When Link's lips finally seemed to have stopped kissing him, Kanda graced the inspector with a raised eyebrow, stated that he _definitely_ wasn't drunk enough for this yet, and left to go grab more alcohol. 


	4. Drabble: what is it like to love someone? { i wish i knew how to get scrub your image from my eyes. } [ ship: past!Kanda x past!Alma ]

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Written for: My muse agrees to be completely honest and spare no detail for one of your muse's curiosities, but only one. What does your muse try to find out from mine?
> 
> An Allen Walker asked, "Kanda...what's it like to love someone? Truly? I know you know - you loved Alma."

"Kanda...what's it like to love someone? Truly? I know you know - you loved Alma."

Kanda inhaled sharply -- if there was a question he had thought was going to come from Walker, he hadn't thought it would be _that_ \-- before he sighed. For once, his face was not in its usual neutral expression, nor in its just as common angry expression -- mostly, he just looked pained ( to be sharing _her_ ). 

He let out another sigh, his hand coming up to his skull to push his hair back -- perhaps the only nervous ( or even _upset_  ) gesture he had ever allowed himself in Walker's presence. 

"It's -- it's not really the same for me," he started, stammering somewhat as he tried to collect his thoughts. "It's not really correct for me to say that I love -- _loved_ Alma or his past self. I only remember bits and pieces of _her_ ; only of _her_ smile and the conversation we had before I -- the dead exorcist, I mean -- died. I don't remember anything else; none of the kisses we shared, none of the dates that we had, none of the plans that we made...it's, it's only bloody flowers and warm smiles. 

"And it's not necessarily _love_ that I feel when I think of the fragmented memories that I have; it's a sense of **longing** , an emptiness that I can't seem to fill, rather than love, I think. I know that I love -- loved _her_ , mentally, I do, and my mind tells me this all the time...but, emotionally, it really is more of a -- a _wishing_." 

Slow, stilted words left his lips as Kanda awkwardly attempted to explain his feelings. He hated the pity that seemed to be forming in Walker's eyes, but it was true -- he didn't think he was really _capable_ of love. That seemed to be lost to him when he -- his past self -- died, a gap in his emotions that never seemed to be filled. 

He cared for Alma, and their last moments together will only be theirs, but this felt right.

It was hard, after all, to love a ghost. 


	5. Drabble: is it better to be loved or feared? { when you have blood in your mouth and hate clogged in your throat, you have your answer. }

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings: Descriptions of blood.

 

What was love? 

~~( "Even when we're grandmas and grandpas?" )~~

He had felt love, once, a lifetime ago.

~~( He didn't even know what love was; only the sense of longing that tore his heart apart. )~~

Killed his only chance at it in this life. 

 ~~( Felt the slickness of blood on his face on his hands on his body. Red, red, red, all over. )~~  

What was respect? 

~~( "We'll protect each other." )~~

He felt none of it for anyone, 

~~( They tore him from oblivion. They separated him from his love. They did this, they did it, they hurt _her_. )~~

and no one felt respect for him. 

~~( Push them away, keep them away. They whisper, _he's dangerous, he's a monster_ , and they're right. )~~

Maybe it was better to be feared. 

~~( So he never has to hurt anyone again. )~~


	6. the black cat. { it wasn't satisfaction that brought me back. }

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Have you ever felt like you were losing your mind?

_She_ was there again out of the corner of his eyes, 

( waiting always waiting  
  smiling always smiling  
  why  did   _she_  look  so  
  happy    to    see   him. )

the woman with the long skirt and a beautiful voice. 

( _"Before the petals fall..."_ )

Every time he saw _her_ , heard _her_ , something inside of him **hurt** ; the feeling of longing choking him. 

( why did his heart hurt  
  so  much.  and  so  he  
  screamed   a  song  of  
  love        and        pain. )

He could almost feel his mind breaking. 

( it hurt it hurt  
  so much pain. )


	7. Drabble: a monster { you lie in a pool of your own blood and this is somehow a familiar thing. }

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for blood, death, and gore. Normal D.Gray-Man stuff.

"Monster!" 

The scream was so terribly loud, and it set a fresh stab of pain through his head. Familiarly, pain seemed to radiate from every inch of his body--a rather maddening sort of agony that made him want to curse and scream at the same time, but the same shuddering torment made his mind hazy, and he found that he could not remember what had brought such torture to him ( it was similar to a pain he had felt in the past hundreds of times before, as pain itself was, perhaps pityingly, better known to him than love ). 

The cankerous shrieking continued, and he tried to open his mouth to tell the guy to shut the fuck up but found that while his mind wanted to command his body, his body did not obey. He had not even opened his eyes, which was strange for him ( the "sweet" curse of his body was that he didn't need to spend so much time to rest ), but his eyelids felt crusted shut as if glued together. Still, he would have to open them to know the situation ( whether or not there were still enemies to kill--he was a soldier, a weapon, first and foremost, and what good is a broken sword? ), so, despite feeling as if he was lifting ten tons rather than just the simple motion of opening his eyes, he forced his eyelids open to see a red ( RED ) world. 

Not of just blood ( although, there was a predominance of that ) but of fire also, fire that crackled as it swallowed every building ( and humans ) in its path, and he stared at the mesmerising orange and red ( the smoke rising in the air ). Then, his eyes trailed from the flame to a white object marred with black lying down in a sea of blood. He peered at it, ignoring the rather familiar stench of iron ( and the putrid smoke as well ) in the air, and he thought he should have recognised the object ( there was something familiar about it--about this--that was just on the edge of his consciousness ), but his brain was sluggish, stubbornly moving at a snail's pace, and the answer as to what the object was--he knew but did not know, and this frustrated him. If he could move, he would have slammed his fist--

 _Oh_. 

With a bubbling, hysterical feeling of **_something_** clawing in his throat, he idly thought, "Oh, that's my arm." 

No wonder the pain felt familiar: how many times had he died surrounded in his own blood ( angel wings on the floor beneath his body, but, **_oh_** , instead of a pure white, they were a deep, angry red ), his limbs separated from him as he so hatefully tried to resonate with the Innocence? Numerous times, more times than he could count or really remember each individual moment ( they had all blurred together, a haze of pain and death and annoying voices ). He supposed that more limbs aside from his arm were separated from his body, judging from the agony that emanated in every nerve of his body ( just how broken was he? ). 

Now, he could understand why the man was creaming, calling him a monster ( how many humans could breathe when their limbs were separated from their bodies, how many humans could live when they had laid dead only moments before in a pool of their own blood? No human could do it, and Kanda had already known he was a monster ), and even though he agreed with the sentiment, the cries were grating on his nerves. 

His strength slowly returning to him, his mouth cracked open, and, his voice weak ( and he hated it ) and cracking, he stated, "Shut up." 

He wasn't sure how the man had heard him ( the screams echoing in his ears ), but at his voice, silence ( finally, sweet silence ) finally reigned, and he was only left with the crackling of the wood ( and the distant screams ) as noise. 

"You're a monster," the man whispered after the silence hung between them for a few minutes. "You shouldn't be alive--you must be the devil himself." 

The bitter taste of irony was in his mouth, making harmony with the taste of iron ( it was true, he was a monster, but he fought in the name of the God he did not believe in, saved humans such as these from monsters created from heartbreak--monsters created from humans, but weren't they both the same, anyway? He and the Akuma? Both of the created by people who played with human lives and deaths as if they were God ), and he so nearly laughed. 

Instead, he stated, "Shut up, and give me my arm."

 


	8. prompt: who would you choose; her or alma?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for description of murder, blood, torture, ptsd.

 

( Screams reverberated in the air, and each one was a blow more physically painful than the Innocence ripping his body apart. Yet, those screams turned into hoarse yells, Alma's voice straining after crying for so long. Soon, those yells turned to whispers, _"Please, stop, no, why are you hurting me, Yū, no, I thought we were friends,"_ and then there was silence, somehow louder than the screams. ) 

A clenched fist was the only hint of his aggravation, of the pain he was reliving due to the question ( remembering the taste of Alma's blood in his mouth, something he could never forget, more memorable than his own ). His eyes fluttered close, briefly, remembering the laughter ( the light in the darkness that had chocked him for so long before a guiding candle glittered like the stars he had never seen but foggily remembered ) but also remembering that beautiful smile ( _"Even when we're grandmas and grandpas?"_ ) that still haunted him in his sleep. 

His eyes opened, and he breathed.

"I already made my decision long ago." 

( It was _her_ , but, oh, it had hurt him to choose. ) 


End file.
